Tremble in fear for I now have writing goals

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The writing class I am taking has been a real catalyst in focusing my concentration and sharpening my skills as a writer. Hey, don’t laugh I mean it. My instructor, Professor Ann has used her considerable talents as an educator and writer and has taken the quivering gray mass that exists between my ears and managed to massage some information into it. She has actually taught me how to deal with the most irritating of things in English grammar called “passive voice” which my inability to comprehend sent every English teacher I had in high school to college into a tizzy of frustration.

I’m sure the rumors that Professor Ann will take a yearlong sabbatical after this class are completely unconnected to her exhaustion at teaching me. The most recent assignment for me was a bombshell since I never really thought much in the way of my long-term goals as a writer.

Being honest here but the first time I read the assignment the voices in my head cried out in unison “TOTAL WORLD DOMINATION” as my goal using armies of cybernetic zombie chickens that even now live under my house awaiting orders to bring all the nations of the world to their knees. The voices in my head are a droll bunch and since that goal was unconnected to writing, I ignored them and they settled for pizza, beer, and a good movie on DVD this Friday night. On a less maniacal note my far-fetched but highly desirable writing goals are far easier on the environment, trust me cybernetic zombie chickens can make quite the mess.

The beginning steps of my ultimate goal would have my blog recognized by the true leader of America and a good portion of the Western world, Oprah Winfield. She would have one of her shows totally devoted to the wit and wisdom that I put forth on my blog when my muse strikes and my kids let me have the computer for longer than a few minutes. They both have Facebook pages and dear old dad has been bodily threaten over their need to tell their sixty jillion close personal friends what they are thinking. It’s gotten so bad my uppity crumb snatchers are even stealing the Chips Ahoy cookies as they update their statuses.

The next step as my fame grew would be a multi-million dollar contract with a publishing house to turn my various forms of posted pomposity into semi-intelligent stories that would climb the best selling charts all across the nation. Stephen King, Jimmy Buffett, and I would then pal around and make fun of Dean Koontz and his toupee that I swear he must have stolen from William Shatner. I understand the reason Koontz’s golden retrievers are so well behaved is that they are terrified of his toupee, which gives them commands in frequencies too high for humans to hear.

After that, I would tour the country signing autographs with a small entourage of say two-hundred. A staff of twenty would be devoted just to removing all the green colored peanut M&M’s from the candy bowls in my swanky suites and making my aluminum foil hats to protect my inspired ideas from evil leprechauns. By this time, politicians of all strips would be beating down my doors for me to show the least little approval of them and their policies. The price of my support would be their acceptance of wearing clown clothes, including those huge clown shoes, and clown makeup at all times while serving as elected officials. The second thing would be them voting ladies beach volleyball as the national spectators sport.

As the years continued to roll on, I would tire of this lifestyle and move to attain my final goal. I would purchase an old beach house that I have stayed at on the mainland side of Pawleys Island situated right on the marsh. It is there that I would retire doing my own impersonation of my hero Mickey Spillane and spend my days writing and without having to share the internet or the Chips Ahoy cookies with my kids. Oh yeah, I would spend some of my riches to house my army of cybernetic zombie chickens close by, you never know when we might have to repel an alien invasion.